For the Love of Anne

by Margaret Brazear

  If anyone doubted that Henry’s stated reason for this hearing, at the specially convened Legatine court at Blackfriars, was genuine, they would never voice their doubts. What they did know was that the outcome of this hearing could change their own lives forever, for if a King could discard a faithful and blameless Queen, a princess of Spain, it set a precedent for the future of the crown.

  What they did not know was that the Pope had received, anonymously, letters written by King Henry to Mistress Anne Boleyn. They gave the lie to the pretence that his need for an annulment was God’s will. The Cardinal from Rome had no idea who had sent them, but he intended to keep the knowledge of them to himself.

  Henry addressed the court, first declaring his love for Katherine and his sorrow at having to take this step, but take it he must, for he had disobeyed God’s law by marrying her and he had been punished for that disobedience by the birth of dead and dying sons.

  Next, Katherine was called upon to give her statement and, instead of standing and stating her case, she walk rapidly to where the King sat and sank down onto her knees on the stone floor.

  “Sir, I beseech you for all the love that has been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice. Take of me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman, and a stranger born out of your dominion. I have here no assured friends, and much less impartial counsel...

  “Alas! Sir, wherein have I offended you, or what occasion of displeasure have I deserved? I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure, that never said or did anything to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or much. I never grudged in word or countenance, or showed a visage or spark of discontent. I loved all those whom you loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or enemies. This twenty years or more I have been your true wife and by me you have had many children, although it has pleased God to call them out of this world, which has been no fault of mine.

  “When you had me at first, I take God to my judge, I was a true maid, without touch of man. And whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience. If there be any just cause by the law that you can allege against me either of dishonesty or any other impediment to banish and put me from you, I am well content to depart to my great shame and dishonour. And if there be none, then here, I most lowly beseech you, let me remain in my former estate. Therefore, I most humbly require you, in the way of charity and for the love of God – who is the just judge – to spare me the extremity of this new court, until I may be advised what way and order my friends in Spain will advise me to take. And if ye will not extend to me so much impartial favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my cause!”

  While she spoke, Henry tried on several occasions to lift her to her feet, but she resisted with all her strength and stayed on her knees. But when she had said her piece, she got up and walked out of court, ignoring every summons to return.

  “It is no impartial court for me, therefore I will not tarry. Go on,” she ordered those who called her back. “I commend my case to God.”

  The King was enraged, not only because of Katherine’s words, but because she had mentioned her friends in Spain, as though they had any authority over the law of England.

  Henry was questioned as to the Queen’s plea and he agreed with everything she had said, but he insisted that it was his conscience and God’s will that brought him here. He told them all that were it not for that, he would never want to part from Katherine, whom he loved dearly.

  Anne listened to the proceedings, hidden behind a curtain, and she smiled. Her admiration for Katherine had always been great, but now it soared. The Queen left her husband, the King, bewildered and enraged, as he had no means to recall her. He had been made a fool of and he would have his revenge.

  Anne prayed that this would be the end of it, that he would now give up the fight and allow her to leave. Her prayers went unanswered.

  Henry allowed himself a few days to control his temper before he visited Katherine. Her ladies dropped into deep curtsies when he appeared; it had been a very long time since he had been seen in his wife’s chambers.

  His eyes lingered on Anne, but he made no indication that there was anything more intimate between them. He liked to tell himself it was a secret, although the whole country knew of his wishes for her.

  He waved his hand to dismiss them all, then turned to Katherine, who had knelt when he entered and now stayed on her knees. He stepped forward, took her arms and lifted her gently to her feet.

  “Henry,” she said, catching his hand and kissing it. “You are here as my husband?”

  “No, My Lady,” he replied harshly. “I am here as your King. Your recent display has done you no favours, only made me more convinced of the sinfulness of our union.” He paused, pulled his hand away from her. “Do you not see that I am right? How else can you explain your failure to provide an heir?”

  Katherine could think of many reasons why God might be angry with them, not least of which was Henry’s infidelity and Katherine’s acceptance of that infidelity. There was also his insistence that every thought that entered his kingly head, had to come directly from God himself. But she voiced none of those.

  “I am but a feeble woman,” she said. “I have given you my love; is it my fault that God has taken my sons?”

  “Yes, Katherine, it is your fault,” he replied. “It is both our faults. We must separate; our marriage was never lawful.”

  “It was lawful and you know it.”

  “No, I do not. This court is taking too long and all that time is wasted, when we could be putting our lives in order to please God. I want you to agree to an annulment.”

  “And make our daughter a bastard?”

  “If you do not do as I say, you will never see your daughter again,” said Henry. “I shall make sure of that.”

  He left her then, left her astonished and hurt that this man, whom she had loved for most of her life, would keep her apart from the only person left to her to love.

  With an ache in her heart, she remembered those twenty years of happy marriage, those nights when he had come to her bedchamber and loved her, held her close in his arms and kissed her lips. And it was not only for the making of a son; it was with real love that he did those things, but it was pointless to torture herself with those memories. Now she had to be strong and determined, for the sake of her daughter.

  She could scarce believe he would do that to Mary, make her a bastard, deprive her of her place in the line of succession to the throne. But that was what he was doing, by trying to establish that their marriage was unlawful. He had made much of Mary; he had made her Princess of Wales in her own right, something that had never been done before, he had sought for her a betrothal to the finest princes in Europe, and now he would declare her a bastard, a nothing, no better than Bessie Blount’s son, worse even, since he was a boy and Henry had given him a grand title.

  Katherine would not give in to his demands. She knew the truth and it had nothing to do with his conscience; she and Mary were to suffer to satisfy the King’s lust. She was a daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, those great Catholic princes, and she would not allow it. She would fight him with her last breath, but deep down she could not believe that he meant what he said. She was wrong.

  The following day, the King ordered that Katherine be removed from court. She was no longer the Queen, he said. She was the Dowager Princess of Wales, widow of Prince Arthur Tudor, and her child, Mary, was a bastard.

  The suitors who had pursued Princess Mary’s hand in marriage fell away, as they had no wish to be married to a royal bastard.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mary Percy’s Request

  ALTHOUGH SHE HAD NEVER met her or even seen her in the flesh, Mary Percy often wondered, as she settled into her old chambers at her father’s house, just what i
t was about Anne Boleyn that attracted both her husband and the King. Mary had seen her portrait and thought her a plain looking young woman with a double chin, which she tried to hide with her bands of velvet and her high necklaces.

  Knowing this made Mary smile. She had no flaws she had to hide with clothes or jewellery, yet there was something about Anne. She had courtiers following her everywhere and she had been alone in keeping the King at arm’s length for all these years. No other woman had ever achieved that, or perhaps no other woman had tried.

  People said that she did it to increase his interest, that she was determined to oust Katherine and take her place as Queen. Indeed, the King had started divorce proceedings, although they had not gone to plan. Mary heard from her friend, Lucinda Hampton, that Anne had been heard to say she hoped the divorce never happened and that Henry would leave her alone.

  Mary did not believe it. She did not pretend to know the woman who had ruined her marriage and her future, the woman her husband adored, but she did not see her as an innocent. In her eyes, Anne was a scheming witch, intent on the throne.

  Mary resented being here, in her father’s house. She was the Countess of Northumberland and should be at Alnwick Castle, residing over it as its mistress. Instead she was here, under the rule of her father where no married woman should be.

  And her father refused to take any of the blame for the situation. As far as he was concerned, the entire fault lay with Harry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland. He was still convinced the man was unreasonable, that he had tried to poison his daughter and that he had abused her. The failure of the marriage was Percy’s fault, and his alone.

  Mary told her father when she first arrived that he was the one to blame, that he should never have forced the marriage on them, knowing Harry loved someone else, knowing he had no wish to marry Mary.

  “But I did not realise then, my dear, what an unreasonable man he was,” said her father. “Any normal man would have been enchanted with you, would have soon forgotten his infatuation. But no, he had to keep up this stubborn insistence on a fantasy, he would not give any effort to building a marriage with you.”

  He was right, of course, but she would not tell him so. He should never have forced the marriage, neither should the old Earl of Northumberland, but both thought they knew best, both believed that once wed, everything else would be buried in the past.

  Then there was the King; he, too, had a part in ruining their lives. He it was who insisted that they wed, likely so that Mistress Boleyn would give up all hope of a future with Harry Percy.

  They were all to blame, all those powerful men, and the ones who suffered for it were the two who were innocent in the scheme.

  They were all wrong and after all these years of being a half married woman, she had had enough. She did not want to return to her husband, but she was entitled to her place as the Countess of Northumberland. She wanted to be back in the place for which she had married, for which she had sacrificed so much.

  She sat down to write to her husband.

  HARRY PERCY WAS MORE than surprised to see his wife’s seal on a letter. He was just recovering from one of his many illnesses when it arrived; it was his first day out of bed for over a week and he had a lot of work to catch up on, but he sipped his ale and gave his full attention to Mary’s words. She must have some serious problems to be writing to him, he knew. Perhaps she was dying! Harry felt a little smile form at the thought and he tore open the letter.

  My Lord, she wrote, Having given the matter much thought, I feel that I am entitled to my place in your household. Do not, I beg you, take that to mean I wish a reconciliation with you, as nothing could be farther from my mind, but living here with my father when I have sacrificed so much for the Northumberland title, is becoming intolerable. I am a married woman and should be given the respect and status of a married woman.

  I beg you allow me to move to Alnwick Castle. I do not intend to hinder you or your life in any way, and I wish I did not have to ask anything of you, but I see no alternative.

  I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

  Mary Percy, Countess of Northumberland

  Harry gave a short laugh at the words ‘your obedient servant’. Of course, it was the polite thing to write, but Mary was nobody’s obedient servant, certainly not his. As to her request, he would have to think on it and he would need to see her first, to be sure of her sincerity about not hindering him in any way.

  It could work. The Castle was big enough and it was sadly lacking its Countess. He could certainly do with the help, since domestic arrangements fell to him in her absence and he was not always well enough to deal with them.

  Only last week he had to rise from his bed to settle a dispute among the servants about a stolen ornament. Ridiculous, when he had married to be free of such concerns. Anne would have known what to do better than him.

  He felt stronger today and would be even stronger tomorrow, strong enough to travel to Shropshire and discuss this proposal with his wife.

  THE JOURNEY TO SHREWSBURY was long and arduous and half way there, Harry admitted to himself that he should have waited a few more days at home before he attempted it. He was exhausted and stopped at an inn for two whole days before he could face more of the bumping and rocking of the uncomfortable coach journey.

  He had given no notice that he was coming, none at all and he thought perhaps he should have. He was not sure about his reasons for that, possibly because he did not want to give her time to move elsewhere, did not want to give her father time to arrange to have him barred from the house.

  Still feeling unwell, Harry was in a foul mood when he arrived to be met with a superior manservant who had the damned nerve to ask if he was expected.

  “No, I am not bloodywell expected,” Harry shouted. “Tell Lady Northumberland her husband is here and be quick. Get me some wine as well.”

  The servant fled while Harry collapsed into a chair beside the door and closed his eyes. He did not realise he was dozing until someone touched his arm, waking him with the requested goblet of wine. It was Mary.

  “You should have sent word, My Lord,” she said. “I would have had a proper welcome prepared.”

  “Would you? How touching.”

  “What else? You are an important earl and my husband.”

  She stood waiting while he sipped his wine, could not help but see his sickly pallor, the dark circles beneath his eyes and the almost skeletal frame beneath his skin. Her heart leapt with a hope that perhaps this was the end of him.

  “Whatever the reason, I thank you,” said Harry.

  He handed her the empty goblet which she passed to the servant, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

  “Perhaps we should go somewhere more private, My Lord,” she said. “Then you can tell me why I am so honoured as to receive a visit from you.”

  Oh, the formality! Mary really wanted to scream at him, hit him with something heavy, but there were rules and they had to be followed, at least where the servants might hear.

  She led him into the small sitting room, taking careful note of the weakness in his legs, the way he held onto the wall to support himself as they walked. He was indeed quite ill this time. Of course she knew he was not the fittest of men, but this was different, much more serious. Perhaps it was only the journey that had exhausted him; with luck it might be his last journey.

  She poured him more wine and sat beside him.

  “Have you come in response to my letter?” she said. “You could have written.”

  “I could have,” he said. “But I would not have been able to say my piece in writing.”

  “What piece is that?”

  “Only that if you are coming back to Alnwick, we need to agree on certain matters.”

  “What matters? I’ve given you my conditions. Surely you need a countess?”

  “I do, I confess. Does your father know of your request?”

  Mary stiffened. Part of the reason for her request had been her
increasing bitterness toward her father.

  “He does not, but if we tell him we are attempting a reconciliation, he will be pleased enough.”

  Harry only nodded, drained his goblet and put it on the table beside him. He felt very weak, very tired and just needed to sleep. He could not deal with any question at this time.

  “Can we talk further when I’ve rested, Mary? I need an hour or two before we discuss things. I fear the journey was more arduous than I anticipated.”

  And you have been ill. She smiled hopefully. If he were to breathe his last here, in this house, it would be the answer to her prayers.

  AN HOUR OR TWO WAS what he asked for, but he was still sound asleep when the Earl of Shrewsbury returned to his house in the late afternoon, looking for his supper. Mary was already at the table and he kissed her briefly before sitting himself on the opposite side.

  Two servants appeared with dishes, one maid and one man, and Mary took the opportunity to address the latter.

  “Will,” she said. “Is Lord Northumberland still asleep?”

  “He is, My Lady. I went in before supper, to inform him that it was about to be served, and he woke just long enough to tell me to go away, that he was not hungry.”

  She nodded, then watched as he left the hall along with the maid. Her father stared at her in astonishment.

  “Percy is here?” he demanded as soon as they were alone. “Why? What is he doing here? He said he never wanted to see you again and he meant every word. Why have you allowed him into my house and why is he in bed in the middle of the afternoon?”

  His voice had risen and he was half out of his seat.

  “Do not let it spoil your meal, Father,” Mary said. “And please sit down. His Lordship is in bed because he is ill. Indeed, making the journey was not wise.”